The FatherinLaw
by BeshterAngelus
Summary: A wedding always bring changes to a family. Can Arthur reassure his future daughter-in-law that the women in the Weasley clan will come to accept her as Bill's wife?


**The Father-In-Law**

Arthur Weasley sighed heavily to himself, his mind weary, and his head aching. It had been one of those weeks at the Ministry, lots of death, lots of chaos, and nothing to even show for it. Even now with the new Minster of Magic, the destruction were taking their toll on everyone. At least, he though comfortingly, the children were off at school. Ron, Ginny, Harry and Hermione would be under some protection, even if his older sons, who were now on their own, had to learn to defend themselves. Now, on his rare evening home from the office, and with Molly busy with washing up from dinner in the kitchen, Arthur took the opportunity to put on his most worn out clothes, grab his set of Muggle tools he had collected over the years, and began to putter to his shed where, for a few hours, he hoped to take apart the marvelous machine they called a "Hoover" to see what it did.

He was in need of a bit of relaxation. Today alone they had to deal with a whole set of jinxed broomsticks shipped in from the continent, which required calling in racing broom experts. And then there was the sting on the stand in Knockturn Alley selling what they promised was a Warding Salve to keep away Dark Magic, and it turned out to be nothing more than toothpaste mixed with fresh garlic. Yet this was a light day in comparison to some, and he had gotten to go home for his meal for a change, only to find a chilly silence at the table, as Molly sat fix-faced on one end, Bill, Fred, and George sat uncomfortably at the sides, eating quietly without looking up, and Fleur…she was no where to be seen.

Now Arthur wasn't a brilliant wizard, though a capable one, but he was nobody's fool, and he knew exactly why the frost was forming on the window panes of the Burrows normally warm kitchen. He, like the boys, had finished his food quickly, and while Bill murmured about checking the defenses for the night, and the twins Apparated back to Diagon Alley, Arthur tried to confront Molly on it.

"Molly, dear, you all right" he'd asked softly, patting her arm, knowing the stress of late was taking it's toll on his often worried wife.

"I'm fine, Arthur, why," was Molly's clipped tone as she vigorously sent a scrubbing brush at one of her pots with her wand, causing suds to splash over the sink and onto the floor.

"Err," he glanced at the mess warily, before shrugging. "Um, never mind then, love. I think I'll go out for a bit."

"Mmmm," Molly nodded absently, before tapping the Wizarding Wireless and returning to wrestling the evening's dishes. Molly usually gave him one of her disapproving looks whenever he mentioned his shed, but as he made his way across the lawn in the dimming twilight, he didn't think she even noticed him out of the window.

He'd just reached the door, and pulled out his wand to undo its sealing charm, when a noise caught his ear, causing him to tense, readying his wand for an attack. Carefully, he listened; waiting to see if he could hear anything further, but there was nothing, save for an occasional snuffle.

"Bill, is that you?" He called softly, preparing himself for the chance that it wasn't his son checking the security of the house.

"No," indeed it wasn't his son. Astonished, the voice of Fleur sounded from around the corner of his shed, thick with what sounded like tears.

"Fleur," surprised, he peeked his head around the corner and whispered "lumos" as the silvery hair and pale face of his son's fiancée came into the light. Valiantly though she tried to hide it, her eyes were puffy and red, her nose slightly swollen, and the dainty lace kerchief in her hand looked rather rung and hard for wear.

"I am zorry," she sniffled, as she quickly stood, apparently ignoring the grass clippings and leaves now sticking to her robes. "I…I thought zees was a private place to 'ave…how you say, a 'tink'?"

"Yes, a bit of a think, I suppose it is a rather quiet spot." Arthur chuckled. "No one comes out here but me, Molly bans the children from it. Come to think of it, she doesn't come here herself." Most likely why Fleur had chosen the spot, he guessed, as he tapped the shed door to unlock it, allowing the somewhat creaky door to fall open.

"I…I zeppose I will go in den…" Fleur began, but Arthur held up a hand to stop her.

"Oh don't leave on account of me, no no," he laughed. "Here, why don't you come in, take a peek inside my shed. It's full of all sorts of interesting Muggle things."

"So Bill's told me," Fleur whispered softly, as new tears threatened to fall from her fathomless crystal blue eyes. "'Eez told me such wonderful things about you all, and…and…" here the poor girl could take it no more, and she buried her face in her hands as she wept openly now. Arthur, who never did like seeing a pretty girl cry, reached an arm out for her, and drew her to his shoulder, patting the shorter girl's head softly as she sobbed.

"There, there, it's all right, let it out. Believe me, you'll feel better for having done it." Arthur assured her, knowing from long experience with a wife and daughter sometimes its better just to let them cry it out.

It took several minutes for Fleur to compose herself once more, and when she did, she wiped her face, embarrassed. "Mr. Weasley, I'm so sorry for thiz…"

"There is nothing to be sorry for, dear, and its Arthur, remember, you will be family soon enough," he smiled reassuringly at her, but she didn't meet his eyes.

"Not if some people have their way, I won't," Fleur muttered, then blushed, her eyes going wide. "I'm zorry, I should not 'ave said…"

"It's all right, Fleur, believe me, I understand," he nodded knowingly, and then looked at his rather dingy, ill lit shed. "Come; have a seat inside with me, won't you?"

Fleur cast a dubious eye towards the shed, but he laughed, reassuring her. "No, nothing in there will eat you, though there might be a spider or two. Here, let me light it up inside," he tapped a strange, Muggle lighting device called a 'lantern' with his wand, and inside the cotton wick caught fire and burned.

"What iz zat," Fleur whispered, staring at it in breathless surprise.

"That is a Muggle lantern, sort of like their version of the Lumos charm, it's rather useful isn't it? It works off that strange liquid they use, pet-all I think it's called. Anyway, the stuff is flammable, and so it burns when you set fire to it. The fabric sort of retards the flame a bit, so the light lasts a bit more, and it soaks up the pet-all to keep it steady. They put the glass around so that it reflects more."

"It zis brilliant," Fleur smiled genuinely at him, and he found himself grinning back.

"Well, few in the family think so; they think I'm rather mad for it. Oh, Fred and George are somewhat interested, but only so far as their shop is concerned. And the rest humor me, but I can tell that they find me a bit of…well an oddball really."

Fleur looked at him confused, "What eez 'odd-ball'?"

"Oh, that, it's…well a bit of a nutter, I suspect, someone who isn't normal."

"But I don't tink that you are an 'odd-ball' for liking zees," Fleur stepped further into the shed then, looking about her, lighting her wand up as she went. "Did you collect zees all yourself?"

Arthur was delighted, "Yes, over the years, bits and pieces of it," he waved at the strange Muggle contraption called a 'bi-sickle'. "That I found at the house of someone in the village, they just gave it to me as no one else wanted it. They said it's missing a chain; it wraps around those metal wheels there, the ones with the teeth. They are called 'gears'. They use the chain and gears to make the wheels work. You press on those 'pedals' there with your feet, and it pushes the gears, which move the chain, which move the wheels, and there you go, you are moving."

Fleur giggled when she looked at it. "But, eet only 'as two wheels, how does it stand up?"

"Oh, you make it balance apparantly, Muggle's are wonders at it, and they get so good they don't think about it. Sort of like us on broomsticks, you know, same idea I guess. And they zoom around all over the place on these things, even children."

"And zat is different than their…ow-to-mo-beels?"

"Oh, yes, those are much more complex. I tried to read how those work, but it confused me. It's all Muggle 'tekle-nolo-gee' you know, how they make up for not having magic."

"Muggles, they are zo very smart," Fleur smiled, sitting down on stool that seemed to be made of metal, with some sort of strange red leather top to it. "I never knew until…well let us say zat Bill has discussed many zings wit me." She nodded her head gravely. "I lead zuch a sheltered life till now, Arthur. The Tournament, meeting your son, zat…zat has changed a great many tings." She looked pensively down at her hands.

No, Fleur was not a wilting French prima donna, Arthur thought ruefully, watching the girl ruefully as he began to set his tools on his workbench, and fiddled idyll with 'Hoover' where it sat tall in front of him. She was a strong girl; he could see that, there was a core of iron in that lily. It was a wonder Molly didn't see it herself.

"It must be hard then, leaving the home you know to come here to England," Arthur said as he took the strange wand with a cross shape at its nose and tried to insert it into the screws holding the metal bits together. "I know that the South of France is nothing like this."

"No, it iz not," Fleur conceded, looking sad. "It iz zo lovely there, especially thiz time of year, but…" she shrugged, "I love Bill, and 'e loves me, and I must stay while 'e fights, no?"

"Spoken, like a true Weasley," Arthur laughed, winking at her. "Oh, Fleur, whether you realize it or not, you belong in this family, you really do. I see all the fire, pride, and spirit in you I could wish for Bill, he needs that in a wife."

"Yez, I am glad YOU tink so," Fleur said despondently. "Arthur, can I ask…why…why does your wife hate me?"

"Molly," he started thoughtfully, "Well, first of all, she doesn't hate you."

Fleur snorted, but Arthur gave her a reproving look. "I've known Molly since we were children at Hogwarts ourselves, and Molly Prewett never hated a person in her life. Dislike, perhaps, but never hate. Too many other people in this world hate for Molly to be bothered with it."

Fleur looked appropriately shamed, but her beautiful face still had a stubborn tilt to the chin. "She does not like me then," she muttered defiantly.

"Well, that much is true," Arthur admitted regretfully.

"And Ginny, she and 'ermione, I 'ear what they call me when zey tink I am not listening," Fleur continued angrily. "Phlegm is what Ginny zays, I am Phlegm. I got Bill to tell me what iz zis Phlegm. I don't know what I've done," this last sentence was so despondent, Arthur felt intensely sorry for the girl.

"Well, that I am afraid is Ginny, tact isn't one of her stronger suits. She's the youngest you know, in a houseful of rather rude and crude boys, and she's mightily attached to her mother. So if she senses Molly's unhappy, she is as well. Besides…well…" Arthur didn't know how else to phrase it correctly. "In a way, you are an interloper here, you know. Molly has been mother, and Ginny is the first Weasley girl in generations, so they feel they have a certain amount of turf here, that you, as Bill's future wife, are invading."

"Me," Fleur blinked at him. "They feel threatened by me?"

"I know, silly isn't it," Arthur realized it must sound very silly to her, though it shouldn't considering that many a woman would feel threatened by Fleur. "But look at it from Molly and Ginny's perspective. You are the new person. Molly has had full attention from all her boys from the day they were born; she cooked their meals, darned their socks, and took care of them in all things. And now, you will be coming in to take over that duty for Bill, and she feels threatened by it. Especially since you are such a worldly, modern witch, my dear, and from France. You are strange, you are exotic, and how will she know if you can cook eggs the way Bill likes them in the morning?"

"But I don't know 'ow to cook eggs," Fleur looked at him, perplexed. "At 'ome, my mother does that...but I am learning!" She stated this with no small amount of pride.

Mmmm, best not tell Molly, Arthur thought. "But you see my point; she worries that her place in Bill's life will now be diminished because now he has you around to take care of him. And for Molly, as this is her first child getting married, she has yet to realize that this isn't necessarily the way of things."

Fleur nodded though, in understanding. "I don't wish to remove her from Bill's life; he loves you all too much."

"I know that, but Molly…well, she takes a bit of convincing."

"But, as for Ginny," he frowned. "Well, I suppose we all are suffering from a bit of being overwhelmed by your…personality." He tried to put it delicately. "Well, we English are sort of 'stick in the muds' compared to the French, and I suppose that Ginny, and even Molly are a bit resentful that you come here and turn up your nose at things that are part of their home."

"But," Fleur began, till Arthur held up a reassuring hand.

"I know you don't mean it, Fleur. And I know that some of your 'exuberance' to share your point of view is just you trying to fit in, and to share your experiences. But, Ginny in particular is like her mother, and they are both mightily defensive of their home, and extremely threatened by you. You, Fleur, are a beautiful women. And you know it. And they know you know it. And its one thing to feel your own home is dumpy, it's another to have some beautiful woman come invading your home and telling you that it's all wrong."

Arthur had tried to put it as gently as he could, but he could tell that the girl's feelings were hurt. Her shoulders slumped, and she twisted the kerchief in her hands tightly.

"Perhaps I have been too brusque, zen," she whispered softly.

"Well, perhaps, but to be honest, I hate Celestina Warbeck myself, and the chickens rather do drive me mad." Arthur confessed, winking at her.

"Zat is why Ginny and "Ermione call me 'Phlegm' zen," Fleur sounded close to tears then.

Drat his daughter and her temper. Ginny was far too much like her mother, but without the mellow edge to her, and forgot sometimes she could really hurt people's feelings. He'd have a talk with her. "Well, like I said, Ginny has grown up with boys and sometimes lacks tact. She's had to stand up to Fred, George, and Ron all her life. And she can be…perhaps unnecessarily cruel without meaning to." And as for Hermione, "Hermione if you haven't guessed is a rather smart girl, and well…she has always been close to Harry and Ron. It can't be easy for her seeing them act the way they do when you come into a room."

"But they are just boys, I mean," Fleur looked flabbergasted. "I can't 'elp being pretty, I know boys will stare, but, Harry, he is like my brother, he saved my sister, and Ron, well, he will be my brother soon, no? Why would I?"

"I know, I know, but Ginny and Hermione don't see it that way. And I'm afraid Molly's behavior gives them license to act the way they do. Still, you are right, they shouldn't call you those things."

"Will anyone ever like me zen?" She asked despondently.

"I like you just fine," Arthur responded firmly, putting down his tool, and crossing over to where the girl sat, hooking a finger under her chin. "I think you are wonderful, Fleur, and you will be a great addition to the family. And the other boys think so too. And eventually, with time I think, Molly will get over her issues, and Ginny will outgrow hers, and they will come around."

"Will they," She still sounded unsure as she gazed up at him.

"I'm positive," he then wrapped an arm around her slim shoulders, hugged her tightly, and like his own daughter, he planted a light kiss on the top of her silvery hair. "Like I said, Bill has won a treasure in you, and I sure hope that he realizes that."

A light tap at the door caused both of them to turn, seeing the silhouette of someone standing in the doorway. But before either could react in alarm, Bill lit his wand and smiled softly at the two of them.

"You left the door open, Dad, I came to investigate," Bill shrugged as he entered, looking about the place. "It's been years since I was last in here."

"Yes, I banned you and Charlie after you tried to take off with my car, didn't I?" Arthur shook a finger at his eldest son as he pulled away from Fleur. "The two nearly got off with it, but then took off part of the barn door when they tried backing it out. Fred and George were much more successful at it years later though."

"Yes, well Fred and George learned from all our mistakes, didn't they," Bill laughed as Fleur, standing from the stool, crossed to him and met his open arms.

"Fleur and I were just having a chat then, weren't we?"

Fleur nodded. "Yes, your father iz such a wise man, Bill," she snuggled closer to him. Bill smiled down at her, and then looked up at his father.

"That he is, Fleur, and well I know it."

Arthur felt his face redden then, and for some reason a mysterious lump form in his throat. Sniffing loudly, to order to clear that lump, he blinked hard, and turned to his tools, gathering the one he used up, and then looked towards the door. "Right, well, I suppose your mother's done with her fit by now, and will have some tea ready before bed. I best…go and check on that, shall I?" Moving around his son and Fleur, he made his way to the door, just as Bill called out.

"Dad, I know just exactly what sort of treasure I have, you know."

Arthur turned back and regarded his son knowingly. "I know, son, you were always the brilliant one, remember." And with that, he left the shed, and made his way to the light of the kitchen window.

Just inside, he could see Molly, now folding a stack of laundry, the lack of the other children not ceasing the chore she hated most. And he remembered a day, not so terribly long ago, when he had brought a young and terrified Molly Prewett home to meet his family. Eventually Molly would come around, he knew. Till then, at least Fleur knew she had Bill, and she had Arthur, and eventually, she'd have the rest too.


End file.
